Along The Lines Of Death
by PartyPoison XOXO
Summary: Poison's dead and so am I.


Sometimes I don't know who Poison is anymore. To be honest, I don't think he knows, either. Jet and I have tried and tried to speak with him, to perhaps catch the humanity within him, but nothing works. Nothing works anymore. Ghoul gave up a long time ago, he can't even look at us anymore. He just sits in the back room from dawn till dusk, smoking pack after pack of cigarettes until he makes himself sick, until all he can do is slump in the darkest corner of the room and breathe. Breathe nothing. Because we don't think Ghoul is alive anymore, either. But we don't try with him, because when we speak, all he does is lie. He lies right through his teeth, and he knows we know the truth, but he won't admit it. Because he's a liar. In all our twenty years of being together, we've never seen him like this. Not once. But then we lost Poison. He was drained dry, he lost his colour and now he's fixed in a still point in reality. We lost him, and Ghoul went down with him. But for some reason we haven't given up on Poison, because perhaps if we bring him back, we can't revive Ghoul, too. Save one, save the other. And we've tried so hard, we've pled with him, we've fought with him, we've done everything. Everything we can. But we can't break through. He doesn't talk or eat anymore. He's always got this far away look in his eye that tells me he's somewhere far away. He's not on planet Earth. He's somewhere in the burned ruins of his mind, sauntering through the ashes and hoping to find something. Something from before. Something alive. But he knows deep within that it's all gone, he knows that the ashes aren't even his ashes anymore. They belong to no one, because no one is just a part of who he used to be.

The closest we've ever gotten to seeing Poison smile was during one of our raids, I remember how a Drac had been able to kick Jet to the ground, and they bashed him until he was bleeding. I had never been so scared. Not for Jet, because I knew he would make it, but for Poison. He lost it. He wasn't human, he wasn't animal, he was a monster. Turning on his heel he caught the Drac by the throat and tore his nails into his flesh until he drew blood, grinding his skill into the dirt until he caught off all oxygen. If we had left the Drac there he would've died on his own. But Poison wasn't satysfied. He drew the dagger from his boot and thrust it into his stomach, continuing this until there was a gap within his gut where his insides were a lovely depiction. He continued until his smile was pure and bloodstained, until we were sure he was going to devour him. He wouldn't stop, the gore seemed to please him, the blood seemed to complete him. He was insane. "Party?" Ghoul had voiced, terrified of the man before him. "Party, I think that's enough." He tried to rest a hand on the stranger's shoulder. "He's dead." And then it was over. Just like that. He put the dagger away, not ever bothering to wash away the blood, and stood up, straightening his jacket. "Right," he sighed, batting away a strand of blood-washed hair, "let's go."

Now-a-days he doesn't even bother with Dracs anymore. We used to let them run, chase 'em down and kill 'em as if it were a game. But now? Now we don't even have to fight, really. Poison just takes charge and shoots them on the spot, shoots them before they can cackle and jeer. Bam. They're dead. Dusted. He doesn't follow Doctor Death's orders anymore, either. He just goes where he wants to. Some days we'll wake up to find him gone. Find his bedroom empty and vacant as if no one had ever lived there, and then a few days after he would come back. Never telling us where he's been. But we notice that his eyes are a bit darker, and the lacerations on his body are a bit deeper. And then one day he just up and left. He didn't even try to be stealthy about it, just stormed out of the Diner and took off running. He ran until we could no longer locate him. At first we didn't worry, but then the hours turned into days, and days turned into weeks. We searched for him and cried for him and prayed for him.

I only lost hope when I realized I wasn't looking for my brother. I was looking for Party Poison. I had lost him completely. I was scared. I was so scared that sometimes I would leave at night, hoping to find him during on of my late-night walks. But I never did. No one ever found him. No one can find Poison unless he wants to be found. Can't kill Poison unless he wants to be killed. And that worried me. The way he had been acting, perhaps he wanted out of this world? Perhaps he wanted it all to go away? Perhaps he gave up, collapsed, barely breathing somewhere out there in the desert.

To be honest, I felt like a horrible person. I hated myself and brought abhor upon the world around me. I hated myself because I wasn't all that depressed about the fact that Poison may have died, but because my brother had already died a long time ago. And when I cried I wasn't crying for Poison, I cried for the boy I had once called Gerard. I cried for his smile and I cried for his laugh, I cried for his voice and I cried for his touch. I loved him, and I just wanted to hold him one more time, hug him and tell him how much I loved him, thank him for helping me grow up, remember everything before. Hug him and never let him go. But not once did I ever cry for the possibility of Poison's death. Because honestly, I didn't want Poison. I never wanted Poison to come back. Good riddance, I thought. I wanted Gerard, not Poison.

And I hated myself for it. Because I knew, inside that broken shell, something burried still remained.

It might not have been Gerard, but it was the closest we would get. Because we knew Gerard wasn't coming back, Gerard was dead, Frankie's dead, Ghoul's dead, Jet's dying, and me? I don't even know anymore. I don't know anything. I'm oblivious to the world around me. I'm oblivious to the emotions screaming.

But then I remember one night he came back, we were all tired and confused and a bit more worried than we should have been. He was different. His body seemed more broad and sterdy, lean and fierce, his hair was no longer the bloody mess I remembered it as, but it was black, black just like it used to be in the times of before. At first I thought it had been Gerard, I was almost happy. But I was wrong. It was the last time I would ever wrong myself in the presence of Poison ever again.

I held back, cowering behind the two others, watching him closely and trying to figure out his game. "Where the fuck were you?" I remember Ghoul yelling, all of us shocked by his sudden outburst. Ghoul has never risen his voice at anyone like that. Poison cocked a brow, hands on hips, standing tall and glowering down at the small Killjoy. "That is none of your concern." Poison stated, walking around him, leaving him standing there, eyes burning with frustration and tears.  
>"Don't you fucking dare walk away from me Poison," he barked, spinning on his heels and staring after the man. "OR I'LL FUCKING SHOOT MYSELF IN THE GODDAMNED HEAD." Poison stopped long enough to look over his shoulder, wittnessing the Killjoy's outburst of emotion as he put the Ray Gun to his head. "I'll do it." He shook, finger trembling on the trigger. "Ghoul, let's not be dramatic-" "Dramatic?" Ghoul almost screamed, dropping the gun and throwing his arms up in frustration. "We've been fucking worried sick! We waited for you-I waited for you! We've tried and tried and fucking TRIED to help you, but you won't budge, you're fucking insane and we don't know what to DO. We want to help you! We want to save you!" Ghoul spit every last word at the man before him, fists clenched along with his jaw. Poison sneered. "I don't need this." He spat before turning towards his bedroom. "GERARD I AM SPEAKING TO YOU." And that was it. That did it. Poison choked to a hault before storming towards Ghoul, grabbing him by the collar and shoving him up against a wall, eyes spewing venom as he barked into the young man's face. "MY NAME IS PARTY FUCKING POISON. AND DON'T YOU EVER FORGET IT." And then he dropped him, leaving him to curl up on the floor before exiting the Diner.<p>

We never saw Party Poison ever again.


End file.
